


don’t say yes if you can’t say no

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (2012), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, M/M, Pseudo-Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-22 11:49:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Royal Daily article went like this: The last scandal to rock the Odinson household has proven to be the final tipping point; both sons Thor and Loki Odinson have been sent off to continue their schooling at Yale and Oxford, respectively.  Although the earlier rumors of the family’s youngest, Loki, and his involvement in the uncovering of an underground gambling ring have been confirmed to be false…(continued on page 14A).</p><p>(Or: the one where Thor learns how to be a responsible adult, and Loki, through kicking and screaming, does not.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a short, self-indulgent fic with Thor and Loki being filthy rich and unrepentant bastards. But then _plot_ began to sneak its way in and 6,000+ words later, and I'm still not done. Meaning, it's still incredibly self-indulgent, just longer.
> 
> The title is a line from Metric's song, "Lost Kitten."

When Loki found out he was adopted, he had to be told twice. This was partly because denial was the easiest response for him to default to, but it was mostly because he was on a hospital bed hooked up to multiple machines, and more than a little delirious. Loki knew whatever nonsensical words coming out of the doctor’s mouth were probably important, but the droning sound of his voice was lulling him back to sleep.

So sleep he did, and when he awoke fourteen hours later, the doctor checked his vitals and reiterated the information from earlier by reassuring Loki of his imminent recovery and mentioning that oh, yes, there was a slight mishap with the blood transfusion because he was AB-, whereas his entire family was O+. It worked out fine, the doctor assured him, the hospital had a supply of AB- blood at the ready. So Loki was alive. And adopted.

Loki did not handle the news well.

He supposed he got a little out of hand with his reaction, because the cardiograph by his bed began to beep fast — abnormally fast, if the look on the doctor’s face was any indication to go by. One of the nurses hurried to adjust another monitor somewhere in the nearby vicinity of his bed; before long, Loki’s eyes began to droop and he stopped his protests in favor of mumbling incoherently and snuggling into the pillows. He fell asleep to the doctor muttering something about family soap operas and medical school not being worth the trouble.

Another eleven hours later, Loki was awake again. This time, instead of his doctor’s rim-framed eyes peering down at him, a pair of blue eyes were staring at him, framed by a furrowed blond brow.

“Loki, you’re awake!” Thor instantly became delighted, and Loki’s drug-induced mind got the disconcerting image of a light bulb flickering on. Thor moved forward and rested his hands on the edge of Loki’s bed to lean in carefully close. Loki leaned back in response, blinking, dazed. “Mother and Father are looking for coffee and will return soon. How are you feeling?”

Loki’s mind began to gradually clear, but he didn’t answer in lieu of gulping down the water he found on his bedside table. Then he cleared his throat and said loudly, “ _What the fuck, I’m adopted_?”

 

\--

The next few days consisted of a whole lot of tears, only some of which were his, and a whole lot of rage, all of which was his. It didn’t matter how shame-faced his fath - how Odin looked, or how tightly Frigga clutched at his hand begging him to listen to them. It certainly didn’t matter that Thor had no idea about any of this either, nor did it make a difference how often he would repeat, stubborn as usual, “You’re still my brother. This doesn’t change anything.”

It might not have changed how they felt, but for Loki, his entire life had just been shoved into a whole new perspective, one that was startlingly clear and painful; somehow, this clarity was so much worse than the illusion he’d been living. So yes, it did change everything, and if Thor couldn’t see that then, well, Loki wasn’t surprised. So be it. Thor rarely shared his point of view these days.

Eventually, both Odin and Thor had been separately driven out of his hospital room. Odin left first, but Thor followed soon after, and both were seething as they stormed into the hallway, bumping into scurrying nurses and doctors. Like father, like son. Of fucking course.

All that remained was Frigga, who hadn’t moved an inch from her chair by the edge of the bed. The nurses rushed out earlier, presumably to call for whatever security measures they had felt necessary to control the family dispute.

“We love you so much,” Frigga had said, her hand resting against the side of his face and brushing aside strands of his dark hair. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but her voice was steady, which was impressive considering the blatant lie inherent in her words. He’d always thought he inherited his ability to act and essentially lie his ass off from Odin; evidently it was just a learnt behavior from both of his nauseatingly dishonest not-parents. “We didn’t tell you about this to protect you. It was for your own good, and someday you will understand our reasons.”

But Loki understood them just fine. It was the whole accepting part that was the issue.

“Leave,” he told her, slinking back under the white covers and turning away, “please.”

 

\--

The one and only slightly decent thing to come out of this revelation was that his not-parents were so concerned about his current well-being, both physically and now emotionally, that they couldn’t bring themselves to berate him for the incident that landed him in the hospital in the first place.

Admittedly, Odin and Frigga have always been lax with their sons. Odin was busy doing whatever it was he did as a minor royal with a real estate empire to run, and Frigga was usually accompanying her husband on his work trips or organizing yet another charity function for the homeless or disabled youth or whatever demographic that had managed to capture her heart this time around. They both preferred to be oblivious to the trouble their sons got themselves into, and between Loki’s sharp-tongue and penchant for making people angry, Thor’s arrogance and tendency to start drunken fistfights with those aforementioned angry people, and their shared family income and connections, it was a whole lot of trouble. Yet the most serious punishment Loki could recall ever receiving was being sent to boarding school for a year, which still made him laugh today because well, let’s just say they had even more fun in England than they did at home.

Despite never receiving anything more than a slap on the wrist, Loki figured his latest stunt would upset Odin enough for a more severe punishment. Surely anything involving a swarm of police, an ambulance, and the possible (read: definite) involvement in underground gambling, all three of which were the highlights of Loki’s latest misadventure, warranted some sort of disciplinary action. Even if it was just limiting his access to the family jet and grounding him in their palatial home.

But this time, it seemed that neither of his not-parents wanted to address the incident at all. The third time they visited and Odin remained silent at his bedside as Frigga fluttered about the room, making sure to refill his water and asking if he was hungry every few minutes, it was clear that the topic would not be coming up any time soon.

So Loki, ever impatient, brought it up himself.

“It’s been dealt with,” was all Odin had to say about it, and he didn’t even bother to sound disapproving. He suddenly looked all of his sixty plus years of age, and his voice was tinged with exhaustion. Whether it was because of Loki’s exploits, the screaming matches the both of them had gotten into the past week, or the demanding work calls he received every few minutes, Loki couldn’t tell.

Frigga, at the very least, tried to be the parent with the iron fist by saying, voice firm, “Never again, Loki, do you hear me?” But the impact was diminished when her expression softened and she said, afterward, “We were so worried about you, dear. You must never doubt how we feel about you. Never doubt the love we have for you.” The revelation of his adoption had made her — all of his supposed family, in fact — disgustingly sappy.

They were trying to comfort him and it was a sweet gesture in theory, but— did they really think he could be so easily tempered with hollow promises and false declarations of love?

Their arrogance was infuriating.

Loki let his rage simmer as he settled into the pillows of his hospital bed, listening to the door of the private ward click shut as Odin and Frigga took their leave. He’d be released in a few hours. For now, he let his eyes fall closed and did what he did best - he schemed.

 

\--

When he was released from the hospital, he was accompanied by Thor and Thor’s friends, who Thor thought were also Loki’s friends. He was wrong, as usual. Of the four of them, Hogun was the only one Loki tolerated most days. Volstagg was all right if Loki had food on hand to distract the man and his big mouth with. Sif and Fandral, however, he could do without ever seeing again.

It was an uncomfortable morning as Thor helped Loki out of the hospital and into the private car with the four friends warily observing them from afar.

“What in the world made you think bringing them was a good idea,” Loki hissed.

Thor shot him a bewildered look as he swung Loki’s travel bag into the trunk. “They were worried about you, so I invited them. They wanted to come.”

Somehow, Loki really doubted that. When he said as much, Thor shrugged. “But they’re here,” Thor said. “That counts for something, doesn’t it?”

_“No.”_

As per usual though, Thor ignored him and waved his friends over to the car with much more enthusiasm than Loki thought necessary.

Loki settled into his seat with a huff. It was too crowded and stuffy in the car, and the silence was overbearing, even to Loki. His shoulder still ached and alright, he was a little self-conscious about the stitches plainly visible on his jaw. Something about Thor’s friends always made Loki revert back to a petulant little boy, eager to prove himself to them, to prove that he was as cool as his big brother. He never succeeded. Over the years this eagerness dissipated, leaving bitterness in its wake. Was it really any wonder why Loki preferred the company of just about anyone else in the world than that of Thor’s friends?

Loki took in a calming breath, nostrils flaring, and stared out the window. Maybe, just maybe, they would leave him alone. Perhaps they would take some misplaced pity on him and his wounded self.

“So how’s the little troublemaker feeling? Better I hope?”

Or not.

“Splendid,” replied Loki, not bothering to look away from the window to face Fandral, who’d been the one to speak. “Wonderful. Spec-fucking-tacular. You know how it is. Nothing like a gang fight or two and some hospital rest to get you going in the morning.” He could almost feel Thor’s disapproving stare burning into the back of his head.

“I’d say he’s back to normal,” said Sif, tone wry.

“ _Why_ are you here,” he bit out, turning toward them with a scowl on his face.

Inexplicably, aside from blank-faced Hogun, everyone in the car was smiling at him. As if he was some cute little pet on display with its fur ruffled and ugh, Loki couldn’t stand Thor’s friends.

“Just making sure Surtur didn’t do any permanent damage,” said Fandral, sounding entirely too cheerful.

Sif corrected him. “We wanted to see if your mischief had finally done you in for good."

“Sif!” Thor exclaimed.

“What?” She shrugged and flicked her dark hair over her shoulder. Her gaze bore into Loki’s, and she was still smiling, but it was a sharp one full of teeth. “Maybe this’ll finally teach you a lesson and you’ll stop cheating people. This was bound to happen, and you know it.” Sif was the only one of Thor’s friends prone to direct honesty over passive-aggressive tolerance, and it would’ve been refreshing, maybe even even respectable, if it wasn’t so infuriating. Who was she to lecture him?

Loki’s lip curled in distaste. He was about to comment about her still being bitter over having to cut off her precious locks of hair after losing a bet to him years ago, but Volstagg chuckled nervously and cut into the conversation. “What she means to say, kid, is maybe you should be more careful.”

“You don’t even know what happened,” Loki said, his expression dark.

“Thor told us.”

Thor cringed when Loki turned to level his glare at him. “They were worried about you.”

Fandral bumped his shoulder against Thor’s good-naturedly. “Come now, don’t blame Thor. The Royal Daily reported this story days ago, anyway.”

When Loki made an incoherent rage-filled noise and put his face into his hands, Volstagg whispered to Fandral, none-too-quietly, “Maybe he’s still upset about the adoption thing.” Beside him, Hogun grimaced.

Loki refused to speak or look at any of them for the rest of the car ride.

As soon as they arrived at the penthouse, Loki took to the elevator alone and rushed, as well as he could in his state, to his suite in search of his cell phone. He found it on his bedside table, battery depleted. Loki gingerly sat himself down on his bed and plugged the phone into its charger, before placing a call to Amora.

Amora Zauberin was a friend from childhood. They’d met by chance on a luxury cruise across the pacific.

Loki, age ten, had been sitting by the pool trying his hand at reading _Lord of the Flies_ when he heard a squeal next to him. Then there was a loud splash and water proceeded to pour all over him as Thor successfully completed the cannonball he’d been boasting about all morning. There was a brief silent reprieve, then another squeal and a squelching noise as something wet slid across the floor.

Loki, now soaked to the bone, turned to glare at the girl making all the noise.

“He’s so dreamy!” she gushed. Her blond hair dripped with pool water, but she didn’t seem bothered, too busy staring wide-eyed at Thor, who was completely oblivious to her attentions.

“Ugh,” Loki eloquently said, snapping his ruined book shut, and that was the end of that.

They didn’t bond until later that night, when their parents ran into each other at dinner. It turned out Frigga and Amora’s mother were friends once upon a time, when Ms. Zauberin once resided in Asgardia with her ex-husband, before she moved herself and her daughters to the States. Loki and Amora’s parents spent the night talking business and reminiscing about Asgardia over steak and specially requested mead, as Amora attempted to get close to Loki to get close to Thor.

She did succeed in getting close to Loki, but not so much to Thor, who was uncomfortable with Amora’s constant presence. Rather than being swayed by Amora’s constantly fluttering eyelashes and attempts at small talk, Thor pulled Loki aside only to warn him to not spent so much time with her, because she was clearly Bad News.

Nevertheless, over the next few days, Amora became genuinely charmed by Loki’s sharp tongue and prickly demeanor, and Loki eventually decided Amora wasn’t that annoying, her inability to stop talking and infatuation with Thor aside. Their friendship only grew as Odin and Frigga uprooted the family and moved to New York two years later to support the growth of Odin’s overseas business.

Loki had to grudgingly admit that somewhere along the way, she became his best friend.

Amora didn’t pick up until the third ring, clearly a calculated move on her part because the day she was far from her cell phone was the day the sky fell. But as soon as she answered, Loki saw right through her unaffected mask. “Loki.” It wasn’t a relieved sigh, exactly, but it wasn’t a sneer, either.

“Hello,” he said, voice soft, as he shifted on his bed to face the mirror hanging across the room. The sunlight leaking through the curtains were too bright, emphasizing his sickly pallor and the stitches on the underside of his jaw. To top it all off, Thor had somehow managed to bring him the one outfit in his wardrobe that was untailored, and it hung hopelessly baggy on his thin frame. “I’m just calling to thank you, best friend, for visiting me in the hospital these past few days. Oh, wait.”

Amora sounded like she was covering up a laugh. “I dearly wanted to, believe me” - Loki didn’t - “but Lorelai was in town and you know how rarely I get to spend time with my sister.”

“Last I heard, Lorelei still isn’t speaking to you for that incident with the Kir Royal and Molly.”

“I’d forgotten about that,” Amora said. “Anyway, what I really meant to say was Skurge needed— “

“Amora.”

He could almost hear her pout through the phone. “Oh, alright. What about, ‘I didn’t think it appropriate to bother your family with my presence while their son was in such a state’?”

Loki didn’t bother to tell her that lie was even less believable than the others, choosing instead to grit his teeth and snarl, “ _Family._ What family?”

“Oh, you know, the one that’s European royalty and owns all those buildings up on 86th? The one that you bitch about all the time because, boohoo, my big brother is more loved—”

“I’m adopted,” Loki said. “And I don’t sound like that. Also, I’m fucking adopted.” No matter how many times he said it aloud, the bitterness he could feel eating him up from the inside still permeated through his words. He couldn’t control it, and it was disconcerting.

_I am adopted. Loki-Not-Odinson._

Amora, for her part, seemed to have been shocked into silence, which normally Loki would think of as nothing short of a miracle but—

“Well?” Loki demanded. He didn’t have the patience for this today, or for anything, really. In fact, his patience had snapped hours ago, as soon as he saw who Thor brought along with him to the hospital. Days ago, when he found out he wasn’t blood-related his fam - the Odinsons. A week ago, when his carefully laid plans unraveled and he ended up in the hospital because some people took gambling far too seriously. “Are you going to say something or should I call back when you’ve found the other half of your brain?” Not his wittiest remark, not even close, but it would have to do, considering the shambles that the current state of his life was in these days.

“Where are you?” Amora finally asked. Loki could hear her puttering about and rustling things in the background.

“Penthouse.”

There was the distinct noise of rushing traffic and the sound of Amora’s shoes clicking against concrete. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Maybe fifteen if I can get Skurge to break a few traffic laws.”

When there was nothing left but the dial tone, Loki put his phone aside and eyed his closet. He had about twenty minutes to change into an outfit that was at least half-decent, one that wouldn’t irritate him or make Amora’s face pinch and her lips purse, which meant something designer, well-cut and tailored.

Now, if only his maid would let him.

“Are you perhaps changing into your pajamas?” the maid asked hopefully. She’d been passing by, and after a moment’s hesitation, stepped into his bedroom. Loki couldn’t place her name but he recalled seeing her around the house in the past. She looked fresh-faced, maybe a year or two younger than he was, with plain features and short hair.

Loki raised an eyebrow, as if to say “What do you think?” before turning his back to her and sliding his closet open. He began looking through his dress shirts.

“Master Odin and Mistress Frigga instructed us to keep you on the premise,” she said, taking quick steps so that she faced his side and was in his line of site once more. She wrung her hands together, and the skittishness was putting Loki on edge. “They were very clear.”

Loki ignored her and unbuttoned his shirt. He tossed it into the dirty clothes bin and peered at himself in the mirror. With a grimace, he lightly traced the thick line of sutures on his shoulder.

“Oh!” The maid looked everywhere but at him when he unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants to the floor. “We’re required to immediately inform your brother if you try to leave,” she continued, addressing the high-rise ceiling.

“Why does everyone think Thor can control what I do?” Loki muttered to himself, before grabbing the rest of the articles of clothing from the floor and flinging them into the bin along with the shirt. The maid could judge him all she wanted; at least he wasn’t messy.

“Are you really leaving?” she asked the ceiling again just to be sure.

“Yes.” He pulled on a pair of black slacks and made his way to his drawers to look for a belt. Suitable band of leather in hand, he turned his head to peer at her over his good shoulder. She was watching him warily, her eyes fixed on his face. He didn’t know if he should be impressed with her self-control or offended that she didn’t take the chance to ogle his backside. “If you insist…” she said, trailing off and scurrying out of the room presumably to call for Thor.

Loki was fully dressed and adjusting his cuffs by the time he heard footsteps approach his open doorway.

“Sigyn tells me you’re going out,” Thor said from somewhere behind him.

“Yes.”

“But you just got out of the hospital.” Loki could hear the door shut closed and then Thor himself as he entered the room, his familiar footsteps falling heavy against the marble floor.

“Thor, what have I said about stating the obvious?”

“Nothing recently,” Thor said heedlessly. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Fine.”

Thor frowned. “And the stitches?”

“Fine,” repeated Loki. “Everything’s fine. Great. Dandy, even. Didn’t you hear what I told Fandral? You can leave now.”

“Mother and Father were terrified when they found out what happened, you know,” said Thor, because somehow, in his brother’s likely empty head, it made sense to continue the conversation this way.

Loki said, tersely, “Your mother, your father.”

“Are you still on that?”

Was he still— _obviously._

“No,” Loki ground out, “of course not.”

“Good.” Before Loki could explain the concept of sarcasm for the nth time, Thor took hold of Loki’s good shoulder to pull him back against his chest. Thor was warm, and Loki could feel his breath against the shell of his ear. “Because it doesn’t matter.”

 _Yes it does_ , Loki wanted to scream at him, but he knew no matter how loud he was, the words would never register, would never get through Thor’s thick head. To his brother, everything could be solved with enough money and frustration-releasing brawls, or just with his heavy promises and heavier bear hugs; it all depended on the problem. But the root of it was that every problem had a solution. Loki found he did not quite agree with this ideology.

“Besides,” said Thor, hands taking hold of Loki’s waist and pulling him even closer. “Now there’s no shame in me doing this.” Loki shifted with a sigh, almost out of habit, to allow Thor better access, and Thor immediately leant down to nuzzle at his neck. The bristles of Thor’s beard tickled, and Loki suppressed a shiver. “Well,” he amended, in between kisses against Loki’s collarbone. “Less shame, anyway.”

“What if I like the shame,” said Loki.

He could feel Thor frown against his skin, and he got the distinct sense that Thor was going to want to talk about this, which just— no. So Loki shrugged out of the embrace, readjusted his shirt and grabbed his phone. It was blinking with unread messages that Loki could pretend to focus on as he brushed past Thor.

“Don’t wait up for me,” Loki called behind him.

“Loki—” Ah. He was right. There was that voice again, the one that said they were going to address the Moral Dilemma of the Day, because sometimes, Thor liked to pretend he was a responsible older brother.

But Loki was already out the door.

 

\--

Amora’s first text message read:

_Ugh, traffic. Don’t do anything stupid_

Her second one said:

_Be there soon. Thank Skurge_

Skurge was Amora’s personal chauffeur and he was also hopelessly in love with her. Amora, for her part, treated him as her personal butler, because he did anything for her without question or complaint—whether it was picking up her dry cleaning at 6AM, finding a specific tiramisu cake for her at precisely 2AM, or even dropping her off at her various boyfriends’ apartments. Aside from the occasional glare he sent whoever Amora’s boy toy of the month was, Skurge was obedient and reliable.

So Loki wasn’t surprised when Amora arrived at the penthouse in under 20 minutes. As soon as he entered her private city car, she handed him a plate of bluefin tuna sushi, his favorite, and a pair of chopsticks. Remaining in her other hand was a glass of clear liquid that looked delightfully alcoholic.

“Food first,” she said primly, pulling the cup out of his reach. “Alcohol later. I know you haven’t had anything decent from the hospital, and you’re already disgustingly skinny enough.”

Loki did as he was told without complaint, taking a piece of tuna into his mouth. It was fresh and tasted divine.

“You might be skinnier than me,” Amora mused, sounding cross and swiping a piece of maki from his plate. “But at least you look like shit. So I’m still the hot one.” She crossed her legs and licked soy sauce from her fingers. Distantly, Loki agreed with her.

She continued chattering about unimportant things, with Loki half-listening. She was perfectly content having a conversation with herself, rambling on about what she did today (her nails), what she planned on doing for her birthday three months from now (getting gloriously drunk on a yacht), and what parties were going on this weekend (too many to name).

She was distracting him, Loki knew.

Sometimes it was easy to admit that she was his best friend. 

 

\--

In retrospect, it was Amora who prevented him from doing anything monumentally stupid and getting his adopted ass disowned. She listened to him mope and whine, nodded consolingly at the appropriate moments and rolled her eyes at the less appropriate ones.

She then plied him with a steady amount of alcohol for the rest of the night, but wisely kept herself sober. Well, mostly sober.

“You’re reaching,” Amora told him, when he theorized that this was the reason why Thor got the exact Dragon Warriors playset he’d wanted that one Christmas, while Loki had gotten a stupid stuffed, eight-legged horse instead of the Magic and Mysteries video game he’d been coveting at the time. “And shut up, you love Sleipnir, I know he’s still somewhere under your bed.”

Loki grumbled and downed the Merlot in his hand. He’d been cut off from the more potent stuff early on in the evening.

“I never liked him,” Amora said, as Loki went on his third rant about Odin that night.

Then:

“Don’t do it,” said Amora, when Loki, with enough drinks in his system, let slip the plan he had for a hostile takeover of his father’s multimillion dollar real estate company. She seemed to think he was joking at first, but when he spilled the intricate details, all the while sounding smug and self-satisfied, she began looking alarmed.

They had argued at that point. Mostly it was Amora rolling her eyes and sipping from her own glass as Loki shouted at her, telling her she couldn’t tell him what to do, that she had no idea what it was like to be the second child, the fake heir, the less loved one, the one never, ever good enough—

Then he blacked out. It was possibly due to the alcohol and medication mixing in his system, though Loki still suspected that Skurge had something to do with it. He’d seen the unpleasant expression on the man’s face when the insults Loki threw at Amora started becoming especially crass. When he asked about it the next morning though, Amora just smiled indulgently and handed him a box of painkillers while Skurge remained silent and stone-faced.

“Don’t do it, Loki,” Amora said again later, over breakfast. She watched as Skurge cut up her vegetarian omelet in precise triangles.“It’s a terrible idea— I mean okay, it’s pretty well-thought out, I’ll admit it. Laufey would agree to anything that could bring Odin down, but it’s not like you can trust him. He’s about as trustworthy as…well, you.” She took a bite of her prepared eggs. “It won’t end well.”

“Please stop talking,” Loki said, clutching at his throbbing forehead. “Oh gods, stop.”

“And if you do come out on top, then what? You steal millions from the only family you’ve known, cause them the biggest scandal of their lives and—what? Would you be satisfied then?”

“Amora—“

“Your mother would be heartbroken. Not to mention Thor—“

“I’ll do anything you say if you just stop talking right now, oh god,” Loki groaned, screwing his eyes shut.

Amora smiled and pushed his cup of black coffee across the dining table. “Drink,” she ordered. “Skurge?” He dutifully dropped four sugars into the steaming coffee, just as Loki liked it.

“I love you,” Loki sighed.

“I know,” Amora said, at the same time Skurge said, “Just doing as I’m told, sir.”

And that was how Amora prevented Loki from royally fucking himself over. Unfortunately, she couldn’t prevent his future efforts to get himself and his brother into as much trouble as possible, but there was only so much one person could do.

 

\--

Three days passed, in which Loki spent most of his time wandering the penthouse and terrorizing the help, and in bed outlining his “nefarious”, as Amora put it, business plans.

He had been successfully swayed out of putting the plans into action, but he found that writing them out and organizing his thoughts calmed him. Besides, he was bored, and using his injuries to his advantage by forcing Thor to do everything that, technically, he could’ve gotten any one of the servants to do could only entertain him for so long. It was such a shame he hadn’t been able to persuade Thor into donning one of the maids’ outfits…

It was also difficult to concentrate on planning hostile corporate takeovers though, when Thor, in between running one of Loki’s absurd errands for him, wouldn’t stop pestering him.

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened that night, brother?”

“Surely you’ve seen the police report by now,” Loki replied.

Thor grimaced. Loki had read the report too. It was a long, somewhat accurate description of his-sometimes-buddy-but-currently-enemy Surtur and Surtur’s friends essentially throwing Loki under the bus. And then stomping all over him when the bus was through. “Yes, but I’d like to hear about it from you.” A whine was beginning to creep into his brother’s voice.

“If you insist,” Loki said, sighing as if long-suffering, even though he was itching to tell someone about how _awesome_ he was at gambling and how much of a shitty loser Surtur was.

Complaining about his wounds to a sympathetic Thor also appealed to him in an oddly sentimental way. As boys, bold little Thor would show up at home after his play dates with cuts and bruises all over himself, and he would brag about each one to Loki, who would listen with wide eyes and rapt attention to his big brother’s adventures. As teens, Loki and Thor would both get in varying amounts of trouble with varying levels of violence, and if it was the rare occasion in which they hadn’t experienced it together, they would tell each other about it, if only because the other was usually the only one who could understand. These occasions were rarer in recent years, but still, the thought of telling Thor about Surtur was comforting, even if Loki would rather go through what Surtur did to him again than admit to it.

Let it be known that Loki was a fully self-aware person; he knew his relationship with his broth - with Thor wasn’t in the least bit healthy. He just didn’t care.

Pausing in his trek up the stairs, Loki said, “It’s a long story though, so first—“

“We can order in for dinner,” Thor said, already pulling out his phone and trailing after Loki, before taking the steps two at a time and passing him on the winding staircase. Loki got the impression of an overeager labrador waiting to serve its master. The thought probably shouldn’t have pleased him so much. “What do you want?” Thor called over his shoulder. He was already at the top of the stairs.

“Thai,” Loki said, looking up at him. “Also, vodka.”

“You just got out of the hospital!” Thor laughed, but issued the order for it without further protest.

They spent that night eating Thai food as Loki spun a tale that was mostly true about how Surtur asked him if he wanted to join in on a night of high rolling poker (false), how Loki won every hand (true), and how Surtur, drunk and furious, retaliated (also true). Loki didn’t mention that he was the one to tip off the police about the location or that he manipulated his way into a spot at Surtur’s poker table.

As Thor guffawed at Loki’s description of Surtur’s face when Loki displayed his full house, Loki wistfully thought about how flawless his plan had been; if he had just gotten out sooner, before the police arrived, he would’ve been home free. Alas, not all plans worked out the way they were expected to.

When Loki was on his third swig of the bottle of Belvedere, Thor began to look disapproving. “Are you still on medication for your shoulder?” he asked.

"I believe so.” Loki moved to take another swig but Thor grabbed the vodka from him.

“I think you’ve had enough, then.” Thor quickly moved it to his own mouth before Loki could steal it back.

Loki frowned. “I can decide for myself when I’ve had enough.” His long fingers reached for the bottle but Thor elevated it just out of his reach with a smug glint in his eyes.

This led to the familiar scenario of the two of them tussling about on the floor of the living area like children and spilling expensive alcohol everywhere, with Loki muttering obscenities about his big brute of a brother and Thor demanding that Loki take back his insults when he eventually got the upper hand. They went at it, knocking aside platters of food and scattering abandoned silverware everywhere, until Thor had most of Loki under him, scowling and breathing heavily.

“You’re a mess,” Thor said, grinning down at him. Loki couldn’t tell if Thor was referring to the alcohol dripping down his neck or the rather sorry state of Loki’s life. Maybe it was both. But it didn’t matter either way, because while Thor mumbled teasingly against Loki’s shoulder, Loki concluded that it’d been far too long since the last time Thor was on him like this. He was about to do something to remedy this when the aching in his shoulder became too much.

As soon as Thor heard his soft soft grunt of pain, he stilled and carefully untangled his limbs from Loki’s. “Shit, sorry,” he said, moving to get out of the way without causing any more damage. He knocked aside the glass bottle and it rolled to the other side of the room.

Loki ignored the twinge of disappointment that shot through him when Thor pulled away. “That hurt,” he hissed, sitting up against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him. The way Loki grimaced in pain wasn’t forced, though the way his voice was coming out small was.

Thor immediately worried, getting up onto his knees and moving closer to hover his hand over Loki’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Loki groused.

Oh, the guilt on Thor’s face was delicious. Sometimes it was too easy. “What can I do?”

“Distract me.” Thor looked confused, just as Loki knew he would, and so he splayed his legs apart and tugged on the collar of Thor’s shirt to pull him close. Forgoing subtlety tended to be the best approach when it came to his brother. Thor understood then, eyes darkening as he leaned in and brushed his lips against Loki’s.

It was too chaste for his tastes, but just as he deepened the kiss, licking his way deeper into Thor’s mouth and tasting the remnants of the Belvedere, Thor broke away, tongue flicking out to sweep at the bottom of his lip. His breathing came out uneven as he rested his forehead against Loki’s.

“You’re too injured,” Thor murmured, his hand coming up to grasp the side of Loki’s neck. Like the rest of him, Thor’s hand was huge, covering almost the entire expanse of Loki’s neck. Loki generally preferred not to dwell on it, because thinking about Thor’s sheer size and the weight of his muscles turned Loki on embarrassingly fast.

Thor’s thumb lightly brushed the sensitive underside of Loki’s jaw, against the line of fresh stitches found there. Of course, Thor could be surprisingly gentle when he wanted to be too, and of course, Loki couldn’t stand that either.

“I have stitches, Thor. I’m not a decrepit,” Loki said, with an exasperated huff. His own hand wrapped around Thor’s forearm, keeping Thor’s heavy grip firm against his skin. Thor’s lips were upturned in a fond look as he leaned down for another kiss. When Thor continued to keep the contact chaste and his hands above the waist, Loki made a whining noise in the back of his throat. _“Thor.”_

He chuckled against Loki’s parted lips. “Another night,” Thor promised and pulled away. It was just his luck that Thor chose today of all days to play the part of the responsible elder sibling; something about his injury must have activated Thor’s wretched Big Brother Senses.

“I should’ve let you drink more,” said Loki.

Thor made a noise of agreement. “You should get up now,” he said, and his gaze was focused on some point above Loki’s head. Loki knew what a site he was; he could feel the warm flush in his cheeks and how swollen his lips were. His legs were still splayed apart invitingly, displaying the full outline of his arousal.

“I find I’m quite comfortable here.” Loki scooted forward to tip the back of his head against the wall. His eyes were half-lidded as he looked up at Thor, who was still determinedly not looking at him, much to Loki’s amusement. Loki spread his legs a little more before trailing his fingers up his thigh to palm at his erection through his trousers. It was good, but not satisfying enough, not with Thor standing in front of him and not touching him.

“On the floor,” Thor said flatly. He gave in and met Loki’s gaze when he let out a small contented sigh and arched his back, turning so that only his good shoulder made contact with the wall. Thor drank in the site of him greedily.

“Don’t be hypocritical,” Loki said, voice low. His tongue wet his bottom lip and he kept his eyes on Thor all the while.“You were quite fond of the floor the last time.” The last time, when Thor rode him for half the night on Frigga’s new rug. They made a complete mess of it, and the next morning, they demanded that the maids clean it thoroughly and immediately, with no questions asked, before their parents came home for the weekend.

Thor’s eyes were impossibly dark now, and it didn’t take much more needling to get Thor back down to his level, to get him growling against Loki’s open mouth and later, around his cock.

It really was too easy, sometimes, but Loki wouldn’t have it any other way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take note of the rating change from mature to explicit.

At 6:22 AM, Loki’s phone shrieked with Amora’s designated ringtone and vibrated against the bedside table, disrupting the relative quiet of the morning. Loki ignored the call in favor of continuing on his mission of getting Thor’s cock as far down his throat as possible. As it turned out, it was pretty far.

Thor groaned at the incessant noise and clenched his fingers in Loki’s hair, blunt nails digging into his scalp, as if worried Loki would roll off the bed and leave him there hard and panting. It was tempting, if only because he so enjoyed Thor’s face whenever his brother was deprived of something he really wanted, but considering the current state Loki was in, with pre-come leaking in generous amounts from the tip of his own cock, it would be as much a punishment for him as it would be for Thor.

Whatever Amora had to say, it could wait.

 

\--

His phone rang another three times before Loki gave in, shoved Thor off him with concentrated effort and reached for the device. He swung his legs over the side of the bed while glaring at its screen, and Thor followed him to lean his head against Loki’s shoulder, whining with impatience.

“What?” Loki snarled into the phone.

Thor fell suspiciously silent and he shifted on the bed just before his mouth and tongue descended hot and slick against Loki’s neck, sucking angry marks into the column of his pale throat. Loki’s free hand shot out to push Thor’s head away, but he just grinned against Loki’s skin and began to kiss his way down the knobs of Loki’s spine. Thor was whining and impatient and such a _tease_.

“Good morning, sunshine,” came Amora’s lilting voice. “I’m picking you up in a few minutes so you can accompany me to the airport.”

Loki blinked, unsure if he’d heard her correctly. Surely Amora wouldn’t really expect him to just be at her beck and call— wait, no. She would.

Thor must have heard her as well, because he took hold of the sides of Loki’s hips in a tight, bruising grip and growled, “No.”

Loki would generally hate to agree with Thor, especially when it had to do with what he should be doing at a given moment, but…

“Mmm, no,” agreed Loki, before dropping the phone onto the floor with a clatter.

He let Thor manhandle him back to the middle of the bed, where Thor proceeded to make his slow descent down Loki’s back until he reached the crevice of Loki’s ass, tonguing into the slit. Gasping, Loki bucked and arched into his brother, fingers scratching against the sheets looking for purchase, and forgot all about Amora.

Until someone knocked on the door a mere couple of minutes later and called through the oaken wood, “Miss Zauberin requests your presence, Master Loki.”

“Go away,” gasped Loki, but his voice was soft and thin and muffled by the pillow stuffed against the side of his face.

The servant knocked again.

“I don’t think she heard you, brother,” rumbled Thor with a soft huff of laughter. His teeth scraped the back of Loki’s thigh and he lightly blew at the red marks there until Loki was shuddering into the pillow.

“Miss Zauberin is insistent you—“

A series of knocks cut the maid off. “Loki! Get out here now!”

“Ugh,” Loki said. He jerked away but didn’t manage to get very far before Thor pulled him back against his heaving chest.

“I still don’t like her,” Thor grumbled, shifting up onto his elbows until his cock was lined up with the curve of Loki’s ass, burning hot against the sensitive and abused skin. “Should we stop?” he mumbled the words into Loki’s matted hair, and it was clearly meant as a challenge when the head of his cock slipped past Loki’s pale cheeks and rested just outside his fluttering hole. But then again, Thor knew just as well as Loki how stubborn Amora could be when she wanted something. She and Thor shared far too many traits if Loki really thought about it.

“We could ask her to join us,” Loki suggested with a smirk, raising his hips up to pull Thor in deeper. Amora claimed to be over her obsessive crush on Thor years ago but…“Doubtful she’d say no.”

“Never,” Thor growled. He stilled, pulling away just enough to look down at Loki. “Does she know—“

“I am not joining your disturbing incestuous games,” shrilled Amora, effectively answering Thor’s question. There was a bang indicating Amora had kicked the door with her heeled shoe. Loki barely repressed an eye roll. He needed to reevaluate his life choices since he evidently had a nasty habit of surrounding himself with blondes with the temperament of petulant little children. Thor sighed when the knocking continued and rolled to the side with a grunt, exposing Loki’s backside to the cold air of the room.

“Ugh,” said Loki again, with a shiver.

“You owe me,” Amora called through the door, and she could be referring to a number of different incidents. Her voice was sugary sweet, though Loki knew she was probably tapping her foot against the floor by now, with her arms crossed against her chest. “I’m already late, so hurry.”

With a guttural groan, Loki rolled over and flung his arm over the side of the bed to grope around for his discarded clothing.

“That’s mine,” Thor said, as if Loki couldn’t tell the difference when Thor’s shirt was a good three sizes too large. He threw the shirt at Thor’s face. His pants followed, but he caught it with ease.

Loki looked to the door and called out, “If I let you in, will you stop screaming?”

“No,” said Thor flatly.

“Yes,” chirped Amora.

Thor shot him a warning look and buttoned up his shirt, looking a delicious mixture of debauched and irate with his furrowed brow and mussed up hair and sweat-slick skin. “Don’t you dare open that door until I get at least a pair of pants on. Actually, just— don’t open it.” Unlike Loki, who’d deflated as soon as he heard Amora through the door, Thor was still hard and leaking. Nestled against his stomach and framed by blond curls, his thick dick was absolutely begging for attention; it wasn’t surprising when his brother leaned against the headboard and hastily wrapped a hand around himself.

Loki stood up to pull on his pants but his eyes dropped to Thor’s thick, glistening cock and his own arousal stirred again at the site. His tongue flicked out to wet his bottom lip. “There’s no need to be shy.”

Thor ignored him, bucking up into his own hand with a hiss, eyes slipping shut. “You could help, you know.”

A considering look came over Loki’s face, but then the knocking at the door began again in renewed fervor.

“I really hate her,” Thor muttered, still pumping at his cock, but his grumbling stopped and his eyes snapped open when Loki, now mostly dressed, got back onto the bed and took the tip of Thor’s heavy, reddened member into his mouth and sucked until his cheeks hollowed out. One hand rested on Thor’s firmly muscled thigh, and the other wrapped around one of his balls. When he immediately, predictably, thrust up into Loki’s warm, welcoming mouth and then out, drawing spit and pre-come across his swollen lips, Loki had to resist the urge to rut against the bed like an overeager adolescent.

Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea, considering he definitely didn’t have any time to tend to his own arousal. But it was worth it when Thor wrapped his hand around the back of Loki’s head and vocalized his delirious praise in a completely broken voice.

Loki didn’t bother to tease him this time, and the harsh sucks of his mouth had a gasping Thor shooting long spurts of come down Loki’s throat in no time.

 

\--

When Loki finally emerged from his bedroom, Amora promptly swung on her heel and said, voice curt, “I’m almost an hour late because of you.” She strode to the suite’s entrance and didn’t bother to wait for him to follow.

Loki’s lips twitched as he trailed behind her, having caught the flush high on the apples of her cheeks before she turned away.

The door and walls were thick but Thor was _loud_.

And well, Loki knew better than most that crushes on his big brother tended to stay with you, no matter how many years were spent trying to dispel the dreaded sentiment.

“I thought Lorelei wasn’t due home for another month.” They reached the foyer where Siygn emerged carrying his coat and a platter filled with fresh croissants, juice, and coffee. The blush on her face certainly solved the mystery of which maid had been sent to seek him out.

“Oh, thank you. Do tell Hermod to prepare breakfast for Thor as well.” Loki shrugged on his jacket and grabbed a glass of the orange juice as Sigyn nodded and left in the direction of the kitchen.

“It’s not Lorelei. I don’t even know when she’s coming back—I was hoping never.” Amora frowned, but then shook her head, blonde waves falling around her sweater-clad shoulders. “Bring your juice, come on, I'm already late.” Amora raised a delicate eyebrow at his choice of distinctly uncaffeinated drink, but didn’t comment.

Loki had his phone in one hand and juice in the other as the two of them ambled into the elevator. As they descended, Loki asked, “Then who’s at the airport and why am I coming along?”

Loki didn’t think there was anyone in the world aside from Amora’s mother and sister who were capable of putting Amora on edge, making her antsy enough that she refused to meet them alone.

“A family friend who’s visiting the city for a few weeks.” Frustration briefly crossed her features. “I barely know him, I don’t know— it’s sort of a big deal. Mother refuses to tell me why.”

It was Loki’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “And what, you need me to be charming and sway him to love you and your crazy bitch of a mother?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.” Amora graced him with a small, mocking smile. Unfortunately, considering Amora’s mother and her delicate temperament, it was.

Loki sighed, peering at his juice. “I should’ve taken the coffee.”

Amora tsked. “Don’t complain, now. I know you have nothing to do today anyway.”

That wasn’t true. Loki had meticulously planned on getting gloriously fucked out, and then kicking Thor out of bed precisely at noon so that he could sneak into Odin’s office to search for any documents relevant to his adoption. That would just have to wait until later, then. Maybe tomorrow.

He downed the rest of the drink just as they met Skurge at the curb in front of Amora’s car. The air had a biting chill to it that had Amora shivering underneath her layers. Loki wasn’t too bothered, having always been more inclined to the cold, but he couldn’t help the unbidden wish to be back in bed under his covers and more importantly, under Thor, who was like a big furnace with the heat he constantly radiated.

Amora glanced at her watch before getting on the tip of her toes to whisper something in Skurge’s ear. He nodded shortly and opened the door for the two of them.

Whatever Amora said must have been effective since they made it to the airport in record time.

 

\--

“Loki, Balder. Balder, this is Loki. And you remember Skurge, don’t you?”

Amora’s arm was linked around Balder’s as she pulled him through the crowded airport, navigating them both around lingering and lost travelers. Loki followed alongside them and he barely looked up from his phone as Amora made the quick introductions.

When he did look up, he did a double take.

Well, _hello_ Balder.

“Why, hello,” Loki said smoothly, pocketing his phone and offering his hand to the beautiful man before him. He smiled his most charming smile when Balder clasped his hand in a firm grip. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Amora’s told me all about you.”

Amora gave Loki an odd look before taking longer strides and pulling Balder out of his reach.

While on the drive to the airport, Amora hadn’t been able to tell him much aside from the basics. All she knew was Balder and his family were old friends of Amora’s mother, he was flying in from England, and he had some business to attend to in the city. Amora certainly hadn’t mentioned he was young, about their age, and that he looked like he’d walked straight off the runway with his soft brown hair and sparkling blue eyes. On top of that, his cuff links were impeccable— the mark of true sophistication; if Loki were the type to do so he might have swooned.

He had never been able to instill in Thor the importance of cuff links, much to his chagrin. Thor often just put on whatever Loki told him to, which he supposed was the closest he’d ever get to making his brother look proper when the time called for it.

Balder, however, was on point, and Loki bit his bottom lip as he eyed him from behind.

“Um,” Balder said, when the two of them knocked into a group of tourists. “Amora, perhaps we should slow it down. Skurge and your friend are all the way back there.”

“Yes, do slow down, Amora. I can barely keep up,” Loki said with a small, forced laugh, catching up to them, and more importantly, catching Balder’s eye.

Amora complied with a strained smile. “Sorry,” she said, and Loki blinked in confusion. He’d never heard Amora utter that word once in the ten or so years of their friendship; Loki wondered what exactly was so important about Balder’s opinion of her, and by extension, her mother. She tightened her hold on Balder’s arm, saying, “I’d just like to get out of here. These crowds are a nightmare. Not to mention we have brunch reservations in an hour.”

“She worries far too much,” Loki said conspiratorially to Balder, and when Balder chuckled melodiously in agreement, something in Loki’s stomach clenched pleasantly.

They ended up being just over 45 minutes late to brunch, but the host barely batted an eyelash before leading them through the crowded establishment to their designated table.

“So, Balder, what have you been up to lately? Tell me everything, we haven’t seen each other since we were children, after all.” Amora simpered at him over her menu. “And I must say, you’ve grown up _very_ well.”

Balder returned her smile with easy grace. “Certainly not as well as you—but thank you,” he said, and Amora’s eye twitched imperceptibly as Loki smirked behind his menu. Good god, he was charming. “Let’s see, well I’m actually at Oxford now, on scholarship—.”

“Oh, Loki went to Oxford, too,” Amora said, a pitch louder than strictly necessary.

“Just graduated, actually,” Loki said, glancing at Amora, who merely smiled sharply at him, in what she probably thought was an encouraging manner.

Balder placed his menu on the table, looking at Loki in surprise. “Excuse me for saying this, but you look rather young to have already graduated.”

“I get that a lot.” Loki made sure to try to keep the ego from his voice. He mostly succeeded. “I skipped a few grades and was sixteen when accepted. I recently graduated this past spring.”

Balder nodded in understanding. “Ah, no wonder we missed each other then. I just started my first term myself.”

“A terrible shame. I’m sure we would have made great school friends.”

Balder laughed. “Well now, we could always make up for lost time.”

“Sounds like a grand idea,” agreed Loki. Wistfully, he continued, “I might go back one day. I originally intended on getting my master’s degree there, too.”

“Oh? Why didn’t you?”

Loki hesitated for a minute moment he hoped Balder didn’t catch. Judging by his oblivious smile, he hadn’t— not a very perceptive one, then. Loki could work with that. “My family insisted I come home and look into programs here in the States,” Loki said, which was only partially a lie.

Loki had attended Oxford at age sixteen with Thor, who’d been on the verge of nineteen at the time. Loki wasn’t surprised he’d be attending the same university as Thor, though a small part of him did wonder how Thor managed to get accepted in the first place.

By the time graduation rolled around a few years later, Loki had been looking into graduate programs while Thor, on the other hand, had looked into the earliest flights home. In the weeks building up to their graduation, the two of them spent the most days they’d ever had without speaking to each other. It seemed neither of them was willing to break the silence until one day Thor snapped and demanded Loki come home with him. The argument that ensued was nothing short of catastrophic; afterwards, they had to make reparations to the university for damage to their dorm, and they met with the student government council to address and apologize for the noise complaints they received during the strict quiet hours of finals week.

But in the end, Thor got his way as he usually did, and Loki ended up accompanying him home. His graduate school application was left forgotten in the trash.

If pressed, Loki would have to admit he couldn’t quite remember how that dispute of theirs went. All he recalled was being on the flight home a week later with Thor dozing against his shoulder, drool dripping into Loki’s shirt collar for the duration of the trip. It didn’t matter, in the end, how he ended up there because when Thor woke up, he beamed sleepily at Loki and told him how relieved he was to have Loki with him. “Grad school can wait,” Thor had mumbled against Loki’s shoulder, and when Loki’s lips pursed, he added, as if sensing Loki’s pending argument, “Just stay for now, okay?”

And Loki did.

“Anyway, I do believe you’re on break, after all, so enough about old Oxford,” Loki said, dispelling his thoughts on Thor’s ridiculous sunny smiles. “What business do you have here in New York, Balder?”

Straightening in her seat, Amora turned bright, curious eyes on Balder; but at that very second the waiter came back and interrupted them before Balder could answer.

 

\--

They spent the rest of the afternoon doing the typical tourist ventures, acclimating Balder to the city—or at least to the embellished, gaudy aspects of it. Loki continued to smilingly chat him up whilst sending Amora the occasional irritated text message about her poorly chosen tourist attractions. Each place was crowded beyond belief, and if one more family from the midwest stepped on his Testoni shoes, he was not going to be held accountable for his actions.

“Just be glad I didn’t choose the Statue of Liberty,” she said imperiously, to which Loki shuddered.

At one point during the day Loki received a text from Thor asking where he was and what he was up to. Loki replied with _none of your concern_ , and he later received a frowny face in return.

When he was particularly bored as they traversed through the Met, he considered sending Thor a dirty text message, but was distracted when Balder let out a soft gasp at a sign pointing to an Anselm Kiefer exhibit.

“He’s one of my favorite artists of all time,” he explained sheepishly, when Loki stared at him. “Do you think we could maybe—“ He gestured in the direction of the exhibit.

“Of course,” Loki said, slipping his hands into his pockets and turning in the same direction as Balder. “I do adore his self-portraits. Yggdrasil is so morbidly fascinating, wouldn’t you say?”

Balder agreed. “Brünnhilde Sleeps is my personal favorite.” After a short pause, he added, “I didn’t think many people were familiar with Kiefer’s works.” He looked side-long at Loki with his lips upturned and something akin to wonder in his eyes.

Perhaps Balder wasn’t the brightest, but damn if his smile wasn’t bright enough to make up for it.

When Loki looked over his shoulder to hail Amora away from Bernini’s sculptures, he was startled to see her staring at the two of them with her eyes narrowed and her arms crossed.

 

\--

By the time they dropped Balder off at his hotel, the sky was dark, and exhaustion was settling deep into Loki’s bones.

Once they were alone, the first thing Amora said to Loki was, “You are not allowed to sleep with him.”

Loki idly wondered if it was Amora’s sole purpose in life to serve as his effectual cockblock.

“Really?” he asked. “And why not?”

“Because he’ll be scarred for life and high tail it back to England, and then my mother will kill me.”

“I don’t see how that’s a reason,” replied Loki.

Amora looked like she was about to stomp on his foot with her four inch heels.

“But he’s _beautiful._ ” That was not a whine in his voice, not at all. “I was expecting some boorish old man from your description of him.”

“Fine, I get it, he’s gorgeous and blatantly gay—whatever. You’re already fucking your brother,” Amora said emphatically. “Isn’t that enough sexual depravity for you?”

Loki didn’t bother dignifying that with a response.

“You told me to be charming,” he said pointedly.

“But that wasn’t permission to literally charm his pants _off,_ ” she hissed.

Loki merely grumbled in response.

“I mean it,” warned Amora.

“I hear you,” said Loki, hoping he sounded remotely convincing.

Satisfied for the moment, Amora settled down. “Good.” She let out of a small sigh of relief. “Oh—What time are you flying to Malibu?”

Loki blinked at Amora, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic and her mercurial mood. “I wasn’t aware I’d be going to Malibu. Is this your way of finally asking if I’ll elope with you because the answer is—”

Amora shoved at his shoulder. The stitched up one. “Please,” she sniffed, as Loki clutched at his clavicle and moved as far away from her as he could in the tight space of the car. Amora watched as he adhered himself to the car door. “As if. Tony Stark’s birthday celebration is this Saturday. Aren’t you going?”

Loki frowned. “When were you invited?”

“A few weeks ago.” Amora sat back and threw her legs up onto the seat across from her.

“Oh,” Loki said, frowning still.

Lips twitching, Amora asked, “You were invited, weren’t you?”

“Of course I was.”

“Liar.”

“I resent that.”

Amora snorted and pointed in his direction with her phone. She opened her mouth to say something when the car door was abruptly pulled open and Loki stumbled, eyes wide and arm flailing. He fell against Skurge, who caught him with his massive arms.

“Sir,” Skurge said, looking down at him with a frown.

“We’re here,” Amora said cheerfully, as Loki righted himself and smiled just slightly murderously at Skurge. “I’m eating dinner at your place, by the way. Your chef makes the best Lambakæfa.”

 

\--

At dinner, Loki picked at Hermod’s freshly prepared Lambakæfa and totally did not obsessively wonder why he wasn’t invited to Tony Stark’s birthday bash.

“You’re going anyway, aren’t you?” Amora’s plate was already cleared and she absentmindedly tapped her fork against it. “I was planning on hitching a ride.”

“I’m not entirely sure I’d even want to go.” An unpleasant expression crossed his face. “The last time he held a party at his Malibu place his basement exploded.”

The news magazines had an absolute field day with that—

“That was _your_ fault,” Amora said. “You attempted to hack his AI— and failed, by the way— and then got pissed and proceeded to get Obadiah Stane so drunk he set off the emergency override.”

—and then with that, too, when Stane recovered the next day and did damage control by defacing someone else in the headlines, namely Loki.

That was a good night, now that Loki thought about it. It was worth the restraining order he later received stipulating he was not to step within fifty yards of Obadiah Stane. The man also had the foresight to add Stark’s name to the document, but that was removed shortly afterwards due to Thor’s unpleasant reaction.

“Something will explode again anyway,” Loki said flippantly. “It’s Tony Stark.”

“I don’t know,” Amora said. “I don’t think he’d risk another scandal so soon, not with the hits his stock’s been taking lately. I doubt he’ll do anything too reckless.”

“But it’s Tony Stark,” repeated Loki. “It’s not a party, much less a birthday party, unless people’s lives are threatened by alcohol poisoning, STDs and exploding artificial intelligence.” Before Amora could reply, Loki straightened in his seat, eyes lighting up. “I know. Let’s make a wager out of it.”

“Brother,” came Thor’s amused voice, “what are you up to now?” He stepped into the dining room, glancing between the two of them while loosening at his tie. In one hand, Thor carried with him his work phone and a stack of papers.

“Nothing,” was Loki’s prompt, churlish reply. He deflated, settling back into his chair and eying Thor’s semi-formal dress. There were, as usual, no cuff links; Loki inwardly sighed. “And where have you been all day?”

“I met with some clients for father.” Thor tossed the documents and phone onto the table before taking a seat across from Amora. He nodded at her in acknowledgment. “It was a long day. Hs also called earlier and asked if you wanted to get back to working— he has a few things for you to do.”

It figured. Barely a week after being released from the hospital and all Odin cared about was ensuring Loki was earning his keep.

“Depends on what useless errand he wants me to do this time,” said Loki, stabbing at his food.

“I suppose that’s a no, then,” said Thor, unconcerned. His eyes strayed to Loki’s plate. “Is that Lambakæfa?”

Loki slid the plate over to Thor, who grinned at him and grabbed his fork.

“So, Thor, you’re going to Tony Stark’s party this weekend, right?” Amora’s eyelashes flirtatiously fluttered. Old habits evidently died hard.

Thor stilled, forkful of lamb half-way to his mouth. He cleared his throat and put the utensil down with a soft clink. “Are you?”

“Of course. And so is Loki even though he wasn’t invited.” She lowered her voice and leaned across the table, hand coming up to cover the side of her mouth. She hissed furtively, “Humiliating, isn’t it?”

Thor shot Loki a stern look. “You can’t go if you don’t have an invitation.”

“I don’t need an invitation just to get into the party,” Loki pointed out, tone flippant. “His security is a joke by the time midnight hits and everyone’s drunk.”

Thor’s severe expession didn’t let up. “Loki,” he said, voice serious, “you’re not going to Stark’s party.”

Loki tensed as he met Thor’s gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice soft and eyes flashing, “can you repeat that.”

Thor gave him a flat look, knowing fully well that Loki had heard him. What he didn’t realize was it was Loki purposely giving Thor a chance to backtrack. Nevertheless, he repeated,“You’re not going to Stark’s party.”

“Are you…trying to ground me?” The tone of Loki’s voice suggested Thor choose his next words very carefully.

“No,” said Thor, eyes straying to where Loki’s injuries have mostly healed. “That’s not what this is about. I just can’t let you go to that party.”

Amora couldn’t handle it anymore, and her muffled laughter disrupted the the icy silence that had descended in the room.

“Is she okay?” Thor turned to eye her warily.

“She’s fine,” Loki ground out out, throwing a quick glance her way. Amora was hysterical, red-faced and seemed to be struggling with breathing. She’d live. Thor, on the other hand…“You, on the other hand, have lost your mind.”

Thor crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t be difficult, please.”

Oh, but the nerve.

Loki crossed his arms in turn. “Are you going?”

“Stark is a close friend of mine,” said Thor, which meant yes.

“Oooh,” Amora said, barely able to catch her breath around the giggles threatening to overtake her again. “Thor, dear, explain fast. I think his head is about to explode. Look, that vein of his is popping out—”

“Enough, Amora,” Thor grit out. “And I think you should leave now.”

“No, I think not.” Amora said, slowly sobering up. She peered at him, at the tense set of his shoulders and the unpleasant expression on his face, and raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Are you trying to intimidate me?”

“No, he’s trying to intimidate me.” Loki didn’t look away from his brother, who was avoiding his gaze by glaring at Amora, who in turn was no longer amused by the situation. “Amora, do excuse us.”

When neither Thor or Loki made a move to leave, Amora huffed and grabbed her purse from the table. “I’ll be in your room,” she said over her shoulder as she sauntered into the hallway.

“Why is she always here,” Thor grumbled, when Amora was gone.

“It’s only been about ten years, I thought you’d be used to her by now,” Loki said. “And don’t try to change the subject. You’re pitifully bad at it.”

Thor sighed, weakly, “Mother and Father don’t want you getting into anymore trouble.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at him.

“Alright, alright,” Thor said crossly, “Stark asked a favor of me.”

Three guesses what that favor was.

“Last time was an accident caused by his handler,” Loki immediately said, defensive. “I simply received the brunt of the blame for being there and because your friend has always had some childish grudge against me.”

“I know,” said Thor, because he’d heard this story many times before. However, nothing about his demeanor or past replies have indicated whether he actually believed Loki, which just compelled him to repeat himself over and over again until Thor caved and agreed with him already. “But Stane doesn’t want to take any chances. You know— Tony wanted to send you an invitation, but Stane refused.”

“Again with the invitation. I don’t need one—“

“Doesn’t matter.” Thor glowered at him. Thor was never any good at handling Loki’s defiance— at least, not without eventually resorting to dirtier tactics. “You’re not going.” There was a note of finality in his voice, as if that tone was enough to stop Loki from doing anything. Clearly, Thor was deluded, since that tone usually meant Loki was going to promptly do everything in his power to manage the opposite.

“I’m your brother,” Loki said stubbornly, even when his left hand clenched at the lie. “And Stark’s one of my closest friends—“ a clench and twitch, this time “—you cannot be serious about excluding me from something like this.” Even though it was for show, done on purpose to play on Thor’s sentimentality, listening to himself sound so pitiful grated his ears.

A shadow of a smile crossed Thor’s lips. It was the first time Loki had claimed aloud to be his brother ever since he found out he was adopted. “Yeah, you are,” Thor said lightly. “But you’re still not going, and I’m not unwilling to call Mother if I have to.”

That was the final straw. Continuing the dispute with Thor and his thick head would be useless; Loki already knew he was going to Stark’s party, whether Thor wanted him to or not. It just would’ve been nice if he had wanted him to.  
  
But it wasn’t like Loki _needed_ Thor’s approval.

Without saying a word, Loki abruptly stood, grabbing the plates and silverware. He needed to keep his hands busy so he wouldn’t wrap them around Thor’s neck. Thor shot him a confused look as he trailed after him—like Thor, Loki never cleared up his messes—but didn’t comment.

Looking at his watch, Thor said, somewhat chagrined, “Look, it’s almost ten now and I was supposed ask if you wanted to go out for drinks tonight with Sif and the others.”

It was a perfunctory invitation. Thor always tried to include Loki in his hedonistic exploits with his idiot friends, and Loki rarely, if ever, agreed to go.

Loki didn’t bother responding to that either. He strolled towards the hallway with a stack of dishes in his hands.

“So that’s also a no, then,” said Thor, watching him leave with a small frown. “Will I at least see you later—“

Another voice called out, “I’ll go.”

Neither Thor or Loki were surprised when Amora popped her head into the room, grinning archly at them.

 

\--

“Don’t worry, I do know how jealous you get,” Amora said, agilely hopping on one foot as she pulled on her shoes. “I’ll text you if someone tries to get into your brother’s pants.”

Loki snorted. It wasn’t a question of if, but when; women and men alike had an embarrassing habit of throwing themselves at Thor’s feet as if he were some sort of god—as if they were worthy of having him.

“Don’t,” he said dryly. “I’d rather not have my phone go off all night.”

 

\--

Later, once Thor and Amora were gone and the penthouse was quiet, Loki lounged on the couch of the living room area with _The Brothers Karamazov_ laid out forgotten on the coffee table. He flipped through the television channels with the volume on low, eyelids drooping.

He shifted onto his stomach and turned his head to glance at the clock. The idea of sleep was far to tempting considering it was only half past ten. Earlier, he’d briefly considered the wine drawer across the room but didn’t make any actual movement towards it; the thought of drinking alone at home while Thor was out merrily getting drunk with his friends (and Amora) left a terribly sour taste in his mouth.

He jerked, bleary-eyed with impending sleep, when his phone buzzed against the glass table. He stared at it, lips downturned.

He didn’t need to read the message. It was probably just Amora detailing in critical derision the newest girl—or boy, he supposed, hand clenching— who’d managed to stick their tongue down his brother’s throat.

“I don’t care,” Loki said aloud to the empty room. He could just happily go back to sleep and leave the message unopened and unread because no, he was not interested in Thor’s dumb sexual exploits—

He opened the message.

_SURTUR & friends are here at the bar, come out here!!_

He frowned, thumbing at the screen. His other hand touched the underside of his jaw absentmindedly, feeling the fading scars beneath his fingertips.

 _I’d really rather not_ he replied. He sat up and stretched, arching his back languidly, before freezing mid-yawn. Something dark and ugly like dread curled inside the pit of his stomach.

Amora's response was prompt.

_Surtur + Thor = shit show. You know why, now come on_

Loki proceeded to curse colorfully as he shot up from the couch and scrambled into the hallway. His footsteps echoed against the floor as he rushed around to grab his jacket and other essentials. On his way out of the foyer, his phone buzzed again with the bar’s address; it was located down on West 12th street, nowhere near where he was.

“Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to everyone for the supportive response!


End file.
